


I carry your heart with me

by shukagari



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Happy Ending, M/M, this is happy stuff btw, who doesn't like some angsty iwaoi?, with like a bit of angst for good measure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-06-03 16:24:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6617716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shukagari/pseuds/shukagari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(I carry it in my heart) </p><p>Oikawa moves away from their island when Iwaizumi is eight; he doesn't see him again until they're eighteen and by then strangers.</p><p>'Oikawa has become a story he only remembers parts of, he has to screw up his eyes and concentrate deeply on the details. It is not a friendship he regrets, it is one deeply treasured and thought of in free time, on occasion, spoken about round the dinner table, and laughed about quietly in his room as he looks through old photographs.'</p><p>A story of reunions, and finding your new place in someone's life you thought was closed to you (this time, in different ways than before).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to make this 4 chapters after some thought. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!! I've been planning this one for some time, but I actually wrote it up just now so some revisions may happen in the first chapter before the publication of the second (publication i sau, like this is a novel) - some ideas may come to me and I may just add them in. 
> 
> This fic is actually not any of the two I was planning on writing that I mentioned in the notes of my last fic - I have quite a few plans at the moment, I just end up writing the ones I'm most excited about all at once and then I post the one I finish first. This was it.

Iwaizumi remembers, on the night of the day that Oikawa left, staring up at the bright, full moon and wondering if Oikawa was looking at it too. Admittedly, he used to wonder this when Oikawa only lived at the end of the street, but this time it was different. For starters, Oikawa was no longer living at the end of the street. And for seconds, this time Iwaizumi had big, fat, wet tears dripping down his face, gobs of snot gathering beneath his nose and he was gasping painfully into his mother's arms.

His mother holds him tight, rocking him back and forth like the sway of a boat on gentle waters, whispers 'shhh' like the sails in a soft breeze and says, 'it's okay' with the assurance only a mother could muster when comforting her crying child. 

His father opens the door; his large, strong body is soft around the edges from the light in the hall as he hesitates in the doorway. His mother ushers him in with a pointed look, and he places a glass of warm milk on the night stand (more for show than anything, he doubts his son will touch it). He puts a big, warm hand in his son's hair and strokes it gently, “We'll call the Oikawa's tomorrow morning, you can talk to Tooru then”. This is the promise Iwaizumi finally falls asleep to.

Iwaizumi is eight when his best friend leaves, and he is eight when he suffers his first heartbreak. Both occurrences are simultaneous.

–

The first phone call they have, which is the start of many, is the next morning as promised. Oikawa cries down the line, loudly and right into Iwaizumi's ear (he does not bother to move the mouthpiece away). Iwaizumi, feeling slightly better at the sound of his best friend's voice, pompously feigns strength and says he did not cry at all (his mother's shirt sleeves beg to differ as they trundle in the washing machine). Oikawa takes this as a challenge, sucking up his tears immediately (which is what Iwaizumi had anticipated) and Iwaizumi smiles around his mouthful of pancake as he is called a 'mean, old brute'.

They telephone each other every Friday, so they have a lot to talk about after their school week. Oikawa, for an eight year old, is heavily interested in school gossip and quizzes him on every fellow student of Iwaizumi's going ons – it is a reasonably low number considering he lives on an island, but Iwaizumi never penetrated the social sphere quite as well as Oikawa so he finds it boring and doesn't have much to say (he tries to entertain him anyway because it's Oikawa, and Iwaizumi will always try for him even if it's for something stupid). Oikawa, on his hand, enthusiastically tells him about the new volleyball team he's joined, and Iwaizumi has to ignore the bitter sting of hurt that comes with it, and the reminder that they will not be playing together anymore. 

Oikawa tells him about the city life. The labyrinthine city streets, the towering skyscrapers, the rushing trains which pop up every ten minutes in the stations, the trampling work crowds, the exciting new food and how large and busy his new school is – Iwaizumi left in his old life, except without Oikawa, does not have any excitement of new places to fill the void. 

One day a letter pops up in the mail. The envelope is neat, the address and name 'Iwaizumi Hajime' clearly written by Oikawa's mother; the letter, on the other hand, is covered in alien stickers and glitter. It is the first letter Iwaizumi has received, so he eagerly tears into it (only to end up with a lap full of glitter – he reprimands Oikawa on his prank in his own letter, although Iwaizumi pulls the same one a few letters down the line). The message consists of 'Hajime, Mum said writing would be fun. please write neatly so I can read your letter – Tooru'. And so the letters begin.

On his first birthday without Oikawa, his parents throw a big party. They have a barbecue (which is the only reason Oikawa says in his letter he wishes he could attend) and invite all of the kids on the island (which totals to about 30 of varying ages) in the hopes Iwaizumi won't notice Oikawa's absence. It's strange to have Oikawa's card arrive in the mail, normally it would be handed over by a sticky hand, he'd get pulled into a tight hug and receive a whispered 'happy birthday' in his ear. Iwaizumi sits on the stairs a long while and stares with blurry eyes at the card in his lap (his mother pretends she doesn't see the tears in her son's eyes as Iwaizumi is trying very hard to pretend they aren't there). 

'Happy Birthday Hajime! You are older than me again, but my birthday is soon so I'll soon catch up. I wish I was there to eat all your cake and see you blow out your candles. Please send pictures of your party to me. I miss you lots. Love, Tooru.'

–

They eventually stop talking. Letters come less and less (and they are sent less and less – Iwaizumi no longer sits feverish with excitement by the letter slot). Telephone calls are sporadic, they come as a surprise to both of them when they are told by their parents 'Iwaizumi/Oikawa is on the phone' and they drop down by a minute in length each time – until they cease to exist completely. One year all Iwaizumi gets from Oikawa is a birthday card, and that very same year Iwaizumi forgets to send one at all – and that is the end of it.

It doesn't hurt. It's a mutual abandonment of their posts as best friends. It's not something they talked about or planned, it just happened. A gradual unravelling of a friendship they didn't even notice was unravelling until it had. 

Time dulls pain, and friendships all the same.

Sometimes Iwaizumi will vaguely wonder what his old childhood friend Oikawa is doing right then, but the thought will soon float away. He'll see a place they used to frequent (the swings, the beach, the old rickety pier) and happy laughter and bright sunny days will cloud up his head for a moment, before they are replaced, not purposefully, by the clutter of his life (schoolwork, classes, day to day things) and thoughts of what he wants to eat that night (what he hopes his dad is making – he loves his mum, but she can't cook to save her life no matter how much she professes to love it), what he wants to do when he gets home and so on. 

Oikawa has become a story he only remembers parts of, he has to screw up his eyes and concentrate deeply on the details. It is not a friendship he regrets, it is one deeply treasured and thought of in free time, on occasion, spoken about round the dinner table, and laughed about quietly in his room as he looks through old photographs. He is part of an old chapter of Iwaizumi's life that he thinks is now closed.

He's thirteen when they lose touch, and he's eighteen when Oikawa crosses his path again. 

–

When he gets home from school, his parents are talking with a stranger at the garden gate. He is tall, smiles easy and talks whilst his hands move animatedly along with his words. He is a stranger, but when he laughs, Iwaizumi recognises him (but does not know him, truly).

“Tooru,” He breathes when he gets close, a frown then tugs at his lips and he wonders if he still has the right to call him that.

Oikawa turns to him, smiles and says, “Hajime,” and the world settles.


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took longer than I expected. I hope you enjoy it :)

He can't look away from Oikawa, and to his credit, Oikawa is only able to tear his eyes away out of the necessity for politeness when around parents who are not your own. 

Oikawa makes small talk with his family, and Iwaizumi watches his lips curling and pursing but does not hear his words. He looks at the way the sun touches Oikawa's hair and brings out the gold, the way it makes his pale skin glow. It is strange seeing him again, the face of a person he once knew so well stretched over this foreign body of someone he doesn't.

So many words stick in Iwaizumi's throat at the sight of him; he wants to say them all at once. He wants to say he's sorry, say he missed him, say he wishes they hadn't lost touch. He feels the words at his lips, but he stops them because he isn't sure just yet if they are true and he could never lie to Oikawa. It all sticks in his throat and all he can do is stare, with wide eyes and a pounding heart that grows heavier by the second.

And then all eyes are on him. He panics, for a moment, wonders if he's said some of it aloud. Then he realises he's been asked a question that he couldn't hear over the pounding of his heart in his ears. His parents look worried, and Oikawa looks, well, Iwaizumi can't read Oikawa anymore.

“Are you surprised to see Tooru here?” His mother repeats, her lips curved in worry.

He stutters out his words with the eloquence of a baby testing out its first words, “Ye-es, I-I am,” he starts, then clears his throat and begins again. “But it's a good surprise.”

Oikawa smiles at him, he's been smiling the whole time, but this time it curves his eyes and makes his cheeks into rosy apples. It is a smile Iwaizumi remembers, and he feels his cheeks warm at the sight of it.

–

His parents slowly drift back inside with flimsy excuses, and Iwaizumi and Oikawa are left alone. With the smug look his mother sends him as she closes the door, and the sorry wave his father gives him from the window Iwaizumi isn't sure whether Oikawa's presence here was planned by them, or is a matter of coincidence. 

Alone together, after many years apart. Iwaizumi shifts his eyes down to the ground, and then back up – Oikawa is looking away, a faint blush high on his cheeks and his brown hair ruffles in a gentle breeze. When he looks back to Iwaizumi his gaze is distant, but then he blinks, and his eyes are clear again – and the moment passes, as though it never was. 

Iwaizumi is filled with an excess of energy, his body thrumming with a jittery nervousness that would have him jump at the slightest provocation (a bird takes off overhead with a loud flutter of wings and he startles). He is overly aware of the erratic pounding of his heart, and of the dryness of his mouth. He licks his lips and parts them as if to say something, Oikawa looks at him expectantly, but then he just closes them and they repeat the process all over again. 

After the silence stretches on too long, gaining courage, Oikawa looks him directly in the eyes, “Do you want to show me around?” he asks, and Iwaizumi is glad for it. 

–

“It's so much smaller around here than I remembered,” Oikawa says, as they pass the one general shop on the island – he checks his reflection in the window; shuffles a stray piece of hair back into place. Iwaizumi, recognising this as so very _Tooru_ ,feels a smile tremble at his lips. 

“Well, you've gotten taller,” Iwaizumi says, even though he's a lot more things than _just_ taller.

Oikawa looks down his nose at him, a cheeky smile tugging at his lips. “And you've gotten smaller,” he says. 

Iwaizumi sends an ill-used glare up at him; Oikawa's grin only widens. 

– 

No one seems to recognise Oikawa about the island, or at least no one comes up to say they do. They simply stare up at him queerly (everyone has crane their neck to look at his face, Iwaizumi is saddened to find) and look to Iwaizumi in question, everyone knows everyone on their island and a stranger is a big deal. 

If Iwaizumi had not been so close to Oikawa in the past he wonders if he would have recognised him. He is much taller, his hair a perfect mess, his skin pale and blemish free, and the city has obviously taught him style. On the island, when not in uniform, people normally wear flip flops and vests (which in itself, is a kind of uniform Iwaizumi supposes) – in anything different, Oikawa stands out like a sore thumb. 

Oikawa seems not to notice their stares, and Iwaizumi wonders if he is accustomed to this sort of behaviour. He doesn't ask him, but he wonders. Wonders how far a high school volleyball career could take you – he wouldn't know, his ended before high school even began. 

Upon noticing Iwaizumi's scrutinising expression, Oikawa looks down at him – something Iwaizumi is still not used to – and smiles. “Do you want something, Hajime?” he asks, and raises a hand to stroke the back of his head, “Or are you just simply admiring my good looks?”.

Iwaizumi lets out a startled snort, and feels a weight slip off his shoulders as laughter takes him. “Were you always this conceited?” he asks. 

“Always,” Oikawa replies, nodding his head seriously. 

Iwaizumi turns his face away to hide the laughter brimming in his eyes.

–

In a moment of seriousness, a moment of drawn out silence and ill-conceived words;

Iwaizumi blurts out, “Why are you here?”. Even though it had been something he'd been mulling over in his head since he'd seen Oikawa – he cringes, hopes it doesn't sound rude and hopes it doesn't sound like he doesn't want Oikawa here – in a place he has every right to be. 

Oikawa doesn't seem to recognise any rudeness in his question – this is Oikawa after all. And Oikawa still knows some of his quirks after all this time; that Iwaizumi's always had trouble with tone and the way he strings words together. So Oikawa just smiles encouragingly at him and says, “I'm starting university in a few months, so I wanted to come back here and see how things had changed.” 

“What are you doing after school?” Oikawa asks, turning his eyes on him.

Iwaizumi shrugs his shoulders, “I think I might just work at my parent's bakery,” he admits quietly.

“Oh, your parents still run that?” Oikawa asks, with a genuine interest.

“Yeah, my mum does management and my dad's the baker,” Iwaizumi says, playing nervously with the end of his shirt.

Oikawa smiles at him kindly, “Sounds like fun,” he says, “I hope you enjoy it”.

Iwaizumi is a little surprised, and pleased. It's not the answer he'd been given at school when he'd said what he'd planned on doing. He finds it easy to return his smile. 

Oikawa stretches his hands up above his head, “If you find that you don't, well, you can always change your mind, it's never too late to,” he says.

–

“When do you have your final exams?” Oikawa asks, not looking at him as he flicks a fly off his shoulder. 

They're walking down a country road now, that will end soon at the gateway to a paddock. The spring greened trees arch above them, creating a long strip of blue sky. 

Iwaizumi doesn't look at him either, just squints up at the cloudless sky as he says, “I've already had them, just filling out time until graduation”.

“How do you think you've done?” Oikawa asks. A little brook runs along the side of the road, under the copse of trees, Oikawa goes to inspect it and peers curiously over the side of the ditch. 

Iwaizumi follows him without really thinking about it, and they watch the clear water bubble over the smooth pebbles. “I'm not sure,” Iwaizumi says, after a moment, “alright I suppose”.

“Same,” Oikawa says. He reaches over, clutches Iwaizumi's wrist in a strong grip and then leans down to test his fingers in the water. He lets out a hiss at how cold it is, something Iwaizumi could have told him but didn't, and then dries his fingers on his jeans.

–

Oikawa stands on one of the rusting rungs of the paddock gate; Iwaizumi leans against it, feet still firmly planted on the ground.

“It's so calm out here,” Oikawa says, as a gentle breeze kisses his cheeks. 

“I guess,” Iwaizumi says, who's never known anything different.

“The hustle and bustle of the city can get very tiring,” Oikawa says, closing his eyes against the sun that peeks out from behind a tree. 

“Of course,” Iwaizumi agrees, even though he's never experienced it. 

“Are you just humouring me?” Oikawa asks, lifting an eyelid to stare down at him.

“Sure,” Iwaizumi says, a smile on his lips, and this is something he knows. 

 

–

Iwaizumi finds a perfect tree. The trunk is thick which means it will take his weight. There are branches near the bottom which means it's easy to climb up. It is tall which means he'll be able to see far and wide. 

He puts his hands on the lowest branch, pushes his feet against the trunk and pulls himself up. 

“Are you coming up?” Iwaizumi asks, fully expecting Oikawa to agree to it. He'd never refused before, and for some reason he doesn't expect him to now. 

He extends a hand down to him without an answer, and almost falls off his branch when Oikawa shakes his head, a small smile on his face.

“Hajime still climbs trees, does he?” Oikawa asks, curling a piece of hair behind his ear that had been blown astray.

“Yes, I do,” Iwaizumi murmurs absently, he takes a moment to right himself. “Why don't you come up here too?” he asks, wondering if the shake of his head had been an involuntary reaction to the sudden, sweeping breeze.

Oikawa shakes his head again. “I'm alright down here,” he says, and it is then that Iwaizumi recognises the small smile on his face to be a sad one.

He begins to climb again, turning his face away so Oikawa can't see the glaring disappointment that sits in the corner of his lips and the curve of his brow. He doesn't look back down until he's reached the top; Oikawa is smaller now, but still watching him, with a hand up to shield his face from the sun.

“Do you want me to come down?” Iwaizumi yells to him.

He can barely hear his, “Yes,” over the wind that shakes the branches of his tree, and sends the leaves swirling. Iwaizumi begins the slow crawl back down to earth. 

–

“How long are you staying?” Iwaizumi asks when his feet are back on the ground.

Oikawa ambles beside him, his hands wedged into his tight jeans pockets. “I'm here for three more days,” he says, so four days all in all. 

“I guess you'll miss my graduation,” Iwaizumi murmurs, deep in thought, and then feels embarrassed about having done. He graduates in two weeks, and he is surprised by the disappointment that has welled up inside of him when he realises Oikawa won't be there for it.

Oikawa smiles at him, and touches his arm. “You can send me pictures,” he says.

Iwaizumi feels faintly embarrassed at the suggestion, like that had worked out so well in the past – but he agrees anyway. 

“Well,” Iwaizumi starts, moving the conversation along to more comfortable ground, “I'll be off Saturday and Sunday, but I guess I can take the Monday off as well whilst you're here,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck in thought. “We're not doing much in school anyway except deciding on what we want to do after, and I already know, I think.” 

Iwaizumi is almost knocked off his feet when Oikawa throws a friendly arm across his shoulders, and clings to him. “Hajime did miss me,” he says, an exaggerated pout on his lips. And then it melts into something soft and sincere, “I'm glad you want to spend time with me.”

 _Tooru smells nice_ Iwaizumi thinks, then he discards the thought to mull over later, and instead stutters out, “Of course I do, you idiot!”. 

 

–

They make it back to Iwaizumi's house when the sun is beginning to set, sending out a soft orange glow; his mother is in the window, drawing the curtains. 

He turns to look at Oikawa, as they stand at the gate. He feels awkward about how this is supposed to go, even though it never was before. 

“I'll see you tomorrow?” he asks, pushing down the urge to wring his fingers as is a nervous habit of his.

“Of course,” Oikawa agrees easily, and then Iwaizumi watches him walk to the end of the street. At the end, Oikawa turns back, his eyes widening a fraction at seeing Iwaizumi still standing there. He smiles, gives a wave, and walks passed his old house without a second look, or thought (a house that Iwaizumi had spent a lot of his nine, and ten year old years looking at - it was a particularly contemptuous look in his tenth year when someone else had moved in) and disappears around the corner. 

–

His mother welcomes him inside. “How was it?” she asks, surreptitiously fiddling with the curtain fastening, and acting as if she hadn't been watching. 

He gives her a small, hesitant smile and says, “It was good,” even though it does not begin to cover the range of emotions he has felt; which are building towers in his insides, clogging up his throat and stinging his eyes. 

In return, she touches his arm and says, “I'm glad,” and he knows she truly means it.

He goes up to his room, collapses on his bed, and buries his face in his arms. He lets his smile spread out in full bloom across his lips.

–

When Iwaizumi opens the front door early the next morning, Oikawa is waiting for him. He leans against the garden gate, looking down at a patch of flowers Iwaizumi's father had planted in the spring. His eyes flash up when the door creaks open, and a slow smile curls across his lips – the rising sun sends twirling shadows across their path, leaves dance in the breeze and Iwaizumi plucks one from Oikawa's hair when he reaches him. 

–

They sit on a pair of swings at the island's lone park – the old, rusted chains groan and creak under their weight as they push themselves up off the ground. The air rushes loud in Iwaizumi's ears; it is a cool and gentle caress against his cheeks that are flushed with a childish happiness. The sun is a brightly glowing ember in the clear sky, and he flies higher and higher towards it, his exhilaration growing, expanding in his chest like a bubble of warmth, until he notices that Oikawa has stopped; he flies alone. Oikawa sits, feet firmly paced on the ground and eyes downcast, his brow screwed up in intense thought. Iwaizumi skids to a halt beside him – his feet digging into the softened ground beneath him, and looks to him with worried words of comfort at his lips. 

Instead, they sit in silence, Iwaizumi waiting for whatever it is Oikawa wants to say, and Oikawa mulling over his next words. 

“It really hurt,” Oikawa begins suddenly and Iwaizumi turns his face towards him, “when I finally realised we'd stopped talking. When realised I didn't know how you were, or what you were doing. When I didn't know if you were even here anymore, on this island,” – he draws in a shuddering breath, and Iwaizumi is kept silent by how broken he sounds (a knot forms in his chest, which squeezes tighter around his heart with each beat) – “When I was on my way over here, I carried on trying to convince myself that I wouldn't be disappointed if I got here and found that you were gone, but I couldn't because I _knew_ that I would be.” He rubs a shaking hand beneath his eye, holds his face in his palm and Iwaizumi is surprised to see that he is _crying_. A frown pulls at his own lips now, shakes with emotion that is clogging up his throat, and he turns away; knowing Oikawa would not want his comfort until he'd finished. 

Iwaizumi had never, _ever_ , wanted to hurt Oikawa – but sometimes hurting someone is inevitable, and this hurt was out of his control just as much as Oikawa was out of his reach. 

“When I got here, I walked straight passed my old house and straight to yours. Your parents were sitting in your front garden and I thought maybe you'd left, and I got _so_ scared because what was the point in coming back here if you weren't here,” He drops his hands from his face now, and something soft, and warm touches his eyes. “Before I could even find the chance to ask them...you were right next to me, saying my name as if nothing had changed,” He gives a quiet laugh, turning his face up to Iwaizumi with a bittersweet smile on his lips, and tears fresh in his eyes. Iwaizumi can almost feel the happiness he felt in that moment, the happiness he had felt himself (the feeling of something that had been missing, finally settling back into place – as gentle as the brush of a feather, a bird returning home to its nest).

– 

Oikawa tips back his head and lets the sun's light gently touch his eyelids. “I wanted to write to you, I wanted the courage to pick up a pen, or the phone and speak to you – but I was scared it didn't matter to you anymore, I was scared you meant more to me than I ever did to you,” Oikawa lets this out like a long breath, and his body relaxes when it is all out in the open for Iwaizumi to see. 

They sit side by side in the grass by the swings. Oikawa with his long legs stretched out in front of him, leaning back on the palms of his hands; Iwaizumi sits cross-legged, his hands hanging in his lap.

Iwaizumi frowns at his words. “I'd always want to hear from you,” he says, and knows this isn't a lie. Even if their friendship had fallen apart, even though he hadn't noticed enough to stop it – he would never not care about Oikawa, he would never stop him from walking back into his life (literally, or in written word.)

“You meant a lot to me,” Iwaizumi murmurs, staring at the triangle of grass between his folded legs. “I can't say if I meant more to you, or you to me as I don't know how you feel – but you were the greatest friend I've ever had.” 

When he looks up, Oikawa is already watching him, his chin resting on one of his shoulders. They don't say anything, just stare at each other, but a million things seem to pass between them.

Oikawa breaks away with an awkward laugh, and says, “Tell me something about yourself that I don't know”.

Iwaizumi chews on his bottom lip in thought;

“My favourite colour is blue”.

Oikawa smiles, “Still the same as ever – I already knew that”.

“I like animals?” He phrases it like a question.

“I knew that one too, dig a little deeper.”

“Erm,” he starts, and feels a blush come to his cheeks at what he is about to reveal, “I had a girlfriend when I was sixteen.”

“A girlfriend?” Oikawa asks a strange strain to his voice. (At the time Iwaizumi mistakes it for jealousy – but he later comes to learn, a _girlfriend_ was something Oikawa had had plenty of. So he decides it must be because Oikawa had had confirmation that were now some things he didn't know about Iwaizumi; although it was actually a mixture of both.)

“Yeah,” he replies.

Oikawa purses his lips, “What was she like?”.

“She was okay,” Iwaizumi says, as he squints his eyes to try to better remember what she even looked like. “She moved back to the city, so I ended it”.

“I'm sorry,” Oikawa says, sounding only a little sorry.

Iwaizumi shrugs his shoulders dismissively, “It's okay, we hadn't been going out long anyway.”

They sit in silence a moment – and in it, Iwaizumi can practically hear Oikawa testing out his next words on his tongue; carefully mulling them, and their importance over.

He finally starts with, “I have a more direct question for you now.”

“Go ahead,” Iwaizumi nods him forward, and wonders if he'll regret it.

He hears the question loud in his ear, as if Oikawa had spoken directly into it – and said it not facing away like he is now. 

_“Why did you quit volleyball?”_.

And there it is, out in the open. The one thing Iwaizumi hadn't wanted to come up, but knew that it would. He feels his insides freeze over, his eyes widen and a guilty flush rises to his cheeks.

“How did you find out?” He asks, in a voice that is calmer than he feels. 

“Your parents told me yesterday,” Oikawa says, still not looking at him. 

Iwaizumi nods, wondering how best to answer.

Volleyball had been Iwaizumi's thing just as much as Oikawa's; Oikawa had introduced him to it – but Iwaizumi had taken it, and made it a part of himself. He'd be lying if he said it hadn't lost some of its fun, some of its glow after Oikawa left – but he'd still kept on playing; until the fun drained out of it completely.

He says, “We were a small island team, we didn't have enough players to qualify for nationals. I wouldn't have been able to take it any further, so I quit.” He quit to protect himself, before his dreams got too big, and instead dreamt of smaller, less ambitious things that weren't playing on the court again with his old best friend. 

To his surprise, Oikawa lets out a short huff of laughter. He's covering his eyes with his arm, a smile tingeing his lips when Iwaizumi looks over at him. “I'm glad,” he says in a quiet voice, “I'd gotten it into my head that you quit because of me, and...I'm just glad to learn that's not the case.”

Iwaizumi can't help but smile too, and he realises that it is with relief. It feels easier with all their secrets out in the open. They can finally start again, and not clutch at the shadows of a relationship that has already passed. This is a second chance. 

Oikawa lowers his arm from his eyes, and looks across to him, an intensity in his gaze that Iwaizumi almost has to look away from. “A lot of things have changed, you are different and I am,” Oikawa says, “but I want you to be straightforward with me – do you want to try to be friends again, even though we've changed a lot and everything is different, do you want to see if we can be friends even now?” 

“Of course,” Iwaizumi agrees easily.

–

“Come see my room,” Iwaizumi had said, with an eager pull on Oikawa's wrist, and now they are here. They tramp up the stairs of the Iwaizumi family house, and then Iwaizumi leans against his doorway and watches Oikawa take in the room with a riveted kind of awe, his eyes wide and lips slightly parted. 

His fingers gently brush everything; Iwaizumi's quilt, the old lamp shade patterned with stars, his bookcase filled with trophies and textbooks, an old picture pinned to the wall with thumb tacks. “It hasn't changed at all,” Oikawa says when he turns back to him.

“The bed is bigger,” Iwaizumi says, matter-of-fact.

Oikawa gives a dismissive wave of his hand and goes over to inspect the picture on the wall more closely. The photo is of the two of them at their first sleepover, dressed in their pyjamas, Iwaizumi is giving a wide, toothy grin to the camera and his little arm is wrapped around a sobbing Oikawa (who'd begun crying as soon as his own mother left him with the Iwaizumi's). A smile slips onto Iwaizumi's lips when Oikawa laughs; “Trust you to have this photo of me hung up,” he murmurs.

“Would you like to stay for tea, Tooru?” His mother asks from the bottom of the stairs.

Iwaizumi pokes his head out from around his door, and says, without consultation, “He said yes”.

–

At the dinner table Hajime regales an old story about Tooru falling out of a tree when a large black beetle flew onto his face. The Iwaizumi family laughs (one open and loud, one simply smiling big, and one in the quiet chuckles Oikawa knows so well). Oikawa looks at each face, and wonders where he fits after all these years. 

–

Iwaizumi walks Oikawa back to the inn he is staying at. It is the only inn on the island and it is a big affordable place run by a family of six, that comes with an assured breakfast and a big comfy bed. 

“Hello, Iwaizumi,” the proprietor says as she skirts passed them at the front desk, a mound of towels in her arms. “I didn't know he was your friend, if I had I would've swindled him for less and given him a cheaper room.”

Oikawa watches her, face aghast, as she leaves for the back of the inn to check on the baths, with one backwards look at them and a loud, amused cackling coming from her open mouth.

Iwaizumi can't help the startled laughter that bubbles out of him, and Oikawa turns his astounded face to him. 

-

Iwaizumi goes to leave Oikawa at the door to his room, but before he can turn away completely Oikawa clutches his wrist shyly, not looking up. As if all the conversations and secrets of the day have just hit him and brought a blush to his face and an unnatural disposition, for Oikawa, of shame. 

“I'll see you tomorrow?” He asks, a hopeful strain to his voice (he flashes his eyes up to meet Iwaizumi's, and then back down.)

Iwaizumi doesn't know if he is making fun, if he is mimicking his words from yesterday – but just in case he isn't; “Of course,” Iwaizumi says, “we can go to the beach,” and then he reaches in to tap the heated blush on Oikawa's cheek with a finger. 

Oikawa squawks in protest, and Iwaizumi leaves him to it; dipping his hands in his pockets as he walks away, hiding his smile in his collar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm making this fic four chapters. I have decided on this with the idea of it being an artistic break; first chapter is establishing the story, second chapter is their reunion, healing and overcoming an imaginary barrier caused by their separation, third chapter is a fresh start and I'm not going to say anymore because the next one is coming soon. - it also turned out a lot longer than I expected so I thought I'd just make the chapter shorter and do four.
> 
> I really hope you liked it!! Comments and kudos are always appreciated. Thanks so much for reading :)


	3. Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just like to say a super massive thank you to all of you who subscribed!!! It means a lot to me. Thank you so much for your interest, and I hope this lives up to your expectations (honestly I'm so nervous lmao). And thank you a load for your patience, I had a load of school work to do this month (I did write three fics in between but they were mostly just stress relief, and I feel like I have to concentrate a butt load more with this fic lol). Just yeah, a massive thank you to you all!! You honestly make me so happy :)

(“I won't ever leave you, Hajime,” a seven year old Oikawa Tooru whispers to an eight year old Iwaizumi Hajime, as they lay together beneath the bed sheets on a warm summers night. 

Iwaizumi has a deep, pouting frown on his lips, that hasn't left since he'd heard the news. 

That morning, Oikawa had overheard his parents talking about their imminent move to the city, and he'd immediately gone to his best friend's house to make plans to put an end to it; crying and screaming until they changed their minds was the best they'd come up with so far. 

Oikawa's small fingers curl around Iwaizumi's wrist, and he holds it tight like he'll never let go. He promises again that he'll never leave him.

And then, just four months later, he does. Iwaizumi Hajime, with tears on his face and a hard, suffocating lump in his throat, watches as his best friend is taken further and further away from him. He feels his heart go along with him.) 

Iwaizumi steps out early the next morning in a faded blue t-shirt and swimming trunks. He closes his eyes beneath the white sun, feels its heat dance across his cheeks and gives a pleased sigh. When he opens his eyes again, after a long moment, Oikawa is there at the gate, quietly watching him (his gaze flashes away when Iwaizumi takes notice, and then back up with a sheepish grin).

Iwaizumi feels himself smile. 

-

“Did you bring your swim-trunks?” Iwaizumi asks, looking over at Oikawa as they walk to the beach (the island is small, it's not that far to go).

Oikawa pats down his clothes proudly, “I'm wearing them under this,” he says, smiling at Iwaizumi and perhaps expecting praise, which he doesn't get.

Instead, “Good,” Iwaizumi says, his voice even, “I was afraid you'd be stupid and forget them”.

Oikawa gasps, words of protest at his lips, but Iwaizumi's wide grin shuts him up before he can say anything and he looks away blushing. 

-

When they get to the beach the sun is up completely, the air moist and pervasive, weighted with a thick humidity that makes them run with sweat. The white sand stretches on for a mile to the left, and to a rocky cove on the right. The sea is blue, and stretches on as far as the eye can see, glinting beneath the hot sun.

Iwaizumi closes his eyes, breathes in deeply, getting a lungful of the salty sea air. “Ahh, fuck it's hot,” he says, rubbing the sweat from his forehead with the back of his forearm. 

Oikawa stares at him with wide eyes, a troubled crease in his brow. “What?” Iwaizumi asks, perplexed and a little freaked out by his expression, and Oikawa startles.

“It's nothing,” Oikawa shrugs with a sharp, forced laugh, not meeting Iwaizumi's eyes now. “You just never used to swear,” he adds quietly, “I guess a lot things have changed, and I'm going to have figure you out all over again”.

Iwaizumi reaches over hesitantly, his hand hovering in the space between them, and then he shakes himself, remembers this is _Tooru_ and he gently put his warm hand on Oikawa's neck, his fingers stroking up into his hair; Oikawa's back straightens at the touch. 

“We have time,” he says, and squeezes Oikawa's shoulder gently before dropping his hand, “You are here now,” and he says these words like they make everything all right, like Oikawa being here is the only thing that matters. 

Oikawa smiles; a small, flimsy thing, but it's there. 

–

In contrast to the heat of the day, the sea is startlingly cold; Oikawa squeals when the water rushes up and touches his toes, and Iwaizumi laughs, pulling him towards the old rickety pier by the hand.

(At seven and eight years old they sit side by side on the pier, feet beneath the calm water. “I'm leaving,” Oikawa says, finally voicing Iwaizumi's worry; he knew their plan wouldn't work deep down, but he'd hoped and that's what makes this inevitability much more painful.

Iwaizumi feels his heart sink to the floor, and he closes his eyes, “When?” he asks in a small voice). 

The sea is gentle enough to swim in, but it still hits the pier in heavy tumults and sprays flecks of cold water up at them like a fountain. They have their toes skimming the water, Oikawa's head tipped back towards the sun and Iwaizumi watches him out of the corner of his eye; quickly squinting over at the horizon when Oikawa turns his gaze to him.

“What?” Oikawa asks, one tidily plucked eyebrow raised; a small, hidden smile on his lips.

Iwaizumi scratches his red cheek awkwardly, “Nothing,” Iwaizumi says. He purses his lips, taps his fingers on the wooden boards of the pier and tries to think of something to say. “Let's go swimming,” he decides on finally.

“But the waters so cold!” Oikawa raises in argument, his voice shrill. 

Iwaizumi laughs, grasping his shirt at the back and pulling it over his head, “That's never stopped you before,” he says, even though before was a long time ago, and everything has changed since then. 

He jumps off the pier, racing across the white sand. Exhilaration pulling his lips wide, the cold sprays of water blasting up and touching his skin, and he loses himself in the moment; blotting out that he may not know all of _Tooru_ now, but what he does know, what he remembers, is that _Tooru_ will always come after him. 

Oikawa watches him run, clad in only his swimming trunks, racing towards the bright skyline and frothing ocean – and then, with a shake of his head, he follows him, still pulled in like whatever Iwaizumi does is a challenge. 

(“Don't worry, Hajime,” Oikawa says, holding Iwaizumi's small pudgy hand in his own small pudgy hand. Their parents chatter behind them, in a unbroken babble they pay no mind to. Oikawa's parents pack the last of their stuff into their car and their mother's hug each other goodbye. 

“I'll see you again,” Oikawa says, and Iwaizumi finally looks up at him now, sees the determination in his eyes, “I promise”.

And ten years later, he does.)

“Why the hell are you wearing alien covered speedos?” Iwaizumi groans, covering his eyes with his arm in embarrassment. 

Oikawa slaps a hand to each alien printed butt cheek in offence, “Hey! Aliens are awesome!” he cries defensively, and then pulls at the waist of his speedos, snaps them against his pale skin,“And these are comfy,” he adds. After a moment of Iwaizumi's continued embarrassed groaning, he shrugs his shoulders, and murmurs quietly, “Besides, at least _I_ didn't have an obsession with Godzilla”. 

Iwaizumi turns slowly to give him a disgusted look, “Don't bring Godzilla into this,” he says threateningly. 

“You're the one who started it,” Oikawa says, smiling cheekily over at him. 

Iwaizumi makes a sudden movement towards him, and Oikawa splashes off, deeper into the water, laughing; Iwaizumi chases him closely, a broad smile on his lips.

-

When he reaches him, his calloused fingers having caught on Oikawa's hip, Iwaizumi laughs, his eyes crinkling up in amusement, and tugs Oikawa against his body. His fingers briefly tangle in Oikawa's hair, and Oikawa buries his open smile against Iwaizumi's neck, his lips lightly touching the skin there; and suddenly everything feels different. 

They can't meet each other's eyes. Iwaizumi feels warmth spread through him from all the points where Oikawa's body meets his own (their hips touch, Oikawa's hand on his back, the other on his wrist, his smile on his neck), and when Oikawa steps away from him, he feels cold, cut-open and vulnerable. 

-

(They live in a moment; a moment of a pure happiness, a bubble of frozen time and bright, easy laughter – that is soon to burst). 

When the water picks up the pace; throwing itself against the shore in heavy, frothing waves, they retreat to the safety of the sand. Iwaizumi watches Oikawa out of the corner of his eye, follows his muscular form, traces the dips and curves of his body with his eyes; and feels something hot melt slow through his body, that brings a flush to his cheeks. And when they collapse in the sand together, it makes him want to reach out and touch Oikawa, brush his fingertips over his pale skin, or hold him tight, against the fluttering heartbeat in his chest. 

But he doesn't, for the moment; instead he resigns himself to just watching, on the fringe of something new (a spin on something old, that was on its way anyway before it came to a crushing, grounding halt with Oikawa's departure – and now it picks up where it left off).

-

They lay out on the sand to dry, having forgotten to bring towels, and watch the clouds roll in, strobes of bright sunlight filtering in between them. The sand sticks to their wet skin, and accumulates between their toes. 

Oikawa combs his fingers through Iwaizumi's wet hair, leaning over him, his arms framing Iwaizumi's face as his fingers work through the knots and tangles; the soft skin of his forearm brushing Iwaizumi's flushed cheek occasionally.

Iwaizumi stares up at him, with half-lidded eyes, at the crease of concentration in Oikawa's brow, the purse of his lips as he works. It is a look that makes Oikawa pause when he finally takes notice, and then he gives a short huff of laughter and hides his face, with his bright blush in Iwaizumi's neck. 

-

Iwaizumi hovers over him, his eyes drooping closed, his body thrumming with excitement and his heart thumping in his chest. He leans down further before he can think better of it, then his nose brushes Oikawa's and he hesitates. He opens his eyes fully, sees Oikawa's are closed and his chin is tilted up towards him. 

He doesn't understand just yet, doesn't understand the pull inside of him, this new flaring heat in his chest, and that they won't ever be able to fit into the old mould of their past friendship again. (Or perhaps he understands too well, perhaps he knows, or thinks, this will end soon, and remain a few glorious, fleeting days in summer.)

So he moves up instead, kisses Oikawa's brow, stays a moment, his eyes closed and then flops back down in the sand beside him.

Oikawa's eyes are still closed when Iwaizumi looks over to him, and he breathes heavily into the still air. Iwaizumi can't help but watch his naked chest rise with each one. And then Oikawa opens his eyes, and blinks up at the darkening sky.

-

A large raindrop splatters onto Oikawa's cheek, and drips down slowly to the bow of his lips. Iwaizumi hesitantly reaches over, but Oikawa is quicker, turning his face aside and dabbing it away with his fingertips. 

They stand up and watch a fine haze of mist accumulate over the water, the rain growing steadily stronger, splashing into the sea, creating a fine spray. The sky is grey and clogged with creeping dark clouds. 

Oikawa turns to him, and holds his arms out to Iwaizumi, a pout on his lips, “Carry me,” he says, and does not tack on a _please_ which would be the polite thing to do, like he expects his demand to be immediately obeyed.

“What?” Iwaizumi says, his lip curling and brow furrowing. Then it finally registers and he says, “No”. 

“Carry me,” Oikawa repeats, with more of a whine in his voice this time. 

“No,” Iwaizumi says again.

“Please,” Oikawa whines, clutching at his arm and shaking him lightly, “Iwa-chan, please”.

Iwaizumi squints at him, “What the hell is an Iwa-chan?” he asks.

“A new nickname,” Oikawa says, “You like it?” he asks, tilting his head with the question.

Iwaizumi scrunches up his nose, “No,” he says without a moments consideration, “call me Hajime”.

Oikawa smiles softly to himself, “Hajime,” he corrects quietly, “please carry me”.

He blinks, clearing the raindrops from his eyelashes and only marginally improving his vision, (feels a private smile pull at his lips); and decides they don't have time for this. “Fine,” Iwaizumi concedes with a sigh, although he finds that he doesn't really mind. 

He crouches down without another word, and then Oikawa is clambering onto his back, wrapping his arms loosely around Iwaizumi's shoulders – his chest a warm weight against his back. Iwaizumi stands, his hands on Oikawa's thighs, holding him up; Oikawa talks into his ear, his breath hot on his neck and Iwaizumi tries his best to ignore the pounding of his heart, and hopes that Oikawa can't feel it too. 

-

They run through the rain, or more correctly, Iwaizumi runs and Oikawa yells encouragements. 

Laughter bubbles up in Iwaizumi's throat, making him light, and he keeps on running, afraid of the moment this bubble around them will pop (when Oikawa leaves), but in this moment Oikawa is with him, a warm and comforting presence clinging to his back.

And it is in this moment of pure, unadulterated happiness that Iwaizumi slips and falls on his ass.

–

The rain is beating down hard upon the tin roof of the bus stop they stand beneath, making deep puddles in the road. The smell of rain, as it hits the once burning, but now cooling asphalt is thick in the air. 

Iwaizumi's hair sticks close to his forehead, and Oikawa is staring at him, has been for a while now. “What?” he finally asks, tiredly lifting his eyes to Oikawa's face.

“You look really weird with flat hair,” is all Oikawa says, then looks away, out into the downpour and Iwaizumi is left to squint at him in a mixture of annoyance and confusion. 

The world is blurred outside of their small cubicle, splintered apart by many raindrops falling at once. They can still see the ocean from here, behind and between the houses. The sea is rough and choppy now, whipped up by the wind and rain. 

Iwaizumi sighs, turning away, and rubs at his sore bum, his expression sour. “That was a really stupid idea,” he grumbles, “I'm bound to have a bruise tomorrow”.

“You agreed to it,” Oikawa points out, sounding wholly unconcerned, instead of saying _it was a stupid idea_ or better yet, _I'm sorry_ as he checks over his nails; picking out the dirt that had gotten under them when they fell.

Iwaizumi's lip curls, “Like I had much of a choice,” he spits back without much venom. 

“You always have a choice,” Oikawa replies absently, not even looking at him as he picks away at a particularly stubborn piece of dirt under his thumb nail. 

Iwaizumi pulls a face, then rolls his eyes away from Oikawa. “Don't get all philosophical on me,” he says.

Oikawa blinks up at him now, and a bright smile unfurls on his lips, “It wasn't _that_ stupid,” he says, and then has the audacity to laugh, “It was actually pretty funny”.

“Says the one who didn't land on their ass,” Iwaizumi grouches, grumpily folding his arms close to his chest.

“That's what made it funny,” Oikawa says with a particularly sharp grin. And then he adds, quietly before Iwaizumi can attempt to strangle him, “I just wanted Hajime to carry me like he always did”.

Iwaizumi tenses up, and then lets out a slow breath; his annoyance slipping out of his body with it. Scratching at his now red neck he mumbles, “I only did that when you were hurt”.

“You also used to get all grumbly and angry with me like you are now,” Oikawa shakes his head, a bright smile twinging at his lips, “So much anger for such a small person”.

Iwaizumi believes he is perfectly justified when he reaches over and smacks him.

\---- 

The rain doesn't let up, and they end up having to run home. Their shirts pulled over their heads as makeshift, and extremely inefficient umbrellas. 

Their feet slosh in dirty puddles, and Oikawa laughs, his laughter mixed in with the falling rain, his smile warm when he turns to glance at Iwaizumi over his shoulder. 

By the time they get home they're both shivering spectacularly, and Iwaizumi is looking forward to a hot shower.

They rush up the stairs, leaving a trail of muddy footprints that they'll deal with later, and both run for the bathroom.

Iwaizumi hesitates in the doorway, remembering his manners. He looks to the shower, thinks of the warmth it'll bring as his teeth chatter away in his mouth, then he motions for Oikawa to go ahead. “You can go in first,” he says, silently hoping he might refuse.

“Thanks Hajime!” Oikawa cries, brushing passed him and slamming the door without a second look.

Iwaizumi stares at the door a moment longer, blinking slowly in surprise, before it opens a crack and a sheepish Oikawa looks out. “I was just joking,” he says, “you can go in first if you want”.

Iwaizumi waves a dismissive hand, and shakes his head, “It's fine,” he says, “you can go first”.

“Thanks,” Oikawa says, this time sincere, and closes the door again.

Iwaizumi goes and wraps himself in a big fluffy towel, sitting on his bed to wait.

-

Iwaizumi regrets letting him go first.

It has been twenty minutes, going on twenty-five, since he let him in there. He doesn't know what he's doing in there, but he's taking too long. Iwaizumi paces back and forth in his bedroom, chewing at his bottom lip; he hears a noise from the bathroom, and looks up hopefully, but Oikawa has just started up a song with himself. He sighs, and gets back to pacing again. 

Screw manners, he thinks when the time hits thirty, and he goes to rattle the door handle. Only, Oikawa seems to have forgotten to lock the door, and he ends up barging into the bathroom, and looking rather foolish.

Oikawa squeals from where he's standing at the sink washing his face, his skin pink and scrubbed clean of sand. He brings his hands down in a fast motion, slapping them to his junk in his desperation for modesty. Iwaizumi watches the pain register; he winces, his mouth opens around a little 'oh', and then he collapses to the ground.

Iwaizumi feels a determined smirk pull at his lips, but he reigns it back and instead asks, “You okay?”. He puts his hands on Oikawa's naked back, still warm from his hot shower, and tries not to be weird and notice the difference between their skin tones, so he doesn't. 

Instead he fixates on a little cluster of freckles near Oikawa's hip and tries not to think they are cute.

Oikawa lifts his head slowly, his eyes streaming, “I'm fine,” he croaks, although his appearance says something different. Then he gets up, giving Iwaizumi a full view of his naked ass and definitely not caring about it, mechanically pulls on his still wet speedos and leaves the room.

Iwaizumi debates whether to go after him, and wonders if he's gone off to cry. Then he decides, with Oikawa distracted, this is probably the best time to use the shower, so he does. 

-

When Iwaizumi steps back into his bedroom, towelling his hair, Oikawa is sitting primly on his bed, his legs pulled up to his chest. “You want something to change into?” Iwaizumi asks.

“Please,” Oikawa says quietly, and Iwaizumi crosses the room to his chest of draws and begins rifling through them. 

He tosses a pair of old pyjama bottoms and a shirt to Oikawa, who picks the shirt up to inspect closely and wrinkles his nose. “You still like Godzilla?” he asks snottily.

Iwaizumi squints at him, then mimics his tone, “You still like aliens?” and points to Oikawa's speedos to take his point even further. 

Oikawa closes his eyes, and nods his head slowly, “Touché,” he whispers.

-

They get dressed in silence, Oikawa on one side of the room and Iwaizumi on the other. Iwaizumi hears a rustle of clothing, feels his heart beating erratically in his chest, and a crawling blush on his cheeks. He stares at the wall and wills himself not to look.

-

“Hajime!” his mother shrieks, and Iwaizumi winces, “What is this mess on the stairs?!”.

Iwaizumi sighs tiredly, “I'm going to go deal with that,” he says, jabbing a thumb at the doorway.

Oikawa nods, then grins, “Have fun,” he says, and collapses back on Iwaizumi's bed, resting his head in his arms, clearly having no intention to help him (even if he was an equal contributor to the mess). 

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, and then he exits; beginning an argument with his mother about how he was _just_ about to clear it up a moment before she started yelling.

-

When they come down for tea later on, Iwaizumi's mother says, a little self-consciously, “I didn't know you were here, Tooru,” perhaps a little embarrassed he'd heard her yelling. 

Iwaizumi gives her a smug grin, and she reaches over to smack him on the back of the head, a fond smile on her face. 

“We're having a barbecue,” she tells them, handing them each a can of soft drink as they sit themselves down at the table. “It's probably not very appropriate for this weather,” she says, glancing out at the still dark clouds and the pouring rain, “but we bought the food when it was a bright sunny day, so we thought we'd still have it,” she smiles at the two of them.

The sliding door is suddenly flung open and they all jump. Iwaizumi's father enters with a gust of howling wind, drenched to the bone and carrying a plate of sausages and kebabs. He places them silently on the table, gives them all an expressionless look, then hunches his shoulders and steps back out into the rain. 

Iwaizumi's mother sighs, one hand holding her cheek, “I love it when it rains,” she confides in them, “his shirt goes all see through and I don't know why I find it so much sexier than when he's just shirtless”.

Iwaizumi spits out his drink, and Oikawa laughs so hard he loses his grip on his can and it falls to the floor, the fizzy drink streaming out all over the carpet. Iwaizumi's mother is recalled just enough to their presence to tell them to clear up their mess. 

–

They head up to bed, bellies comfortably full, and a sleepy feeling draped over them like a blanket from the warm food. Oikawa flops onto Iwaizumi's bed, and pats his stomach, whilst Iwaizumi gives a loud burp into his fist and a satisfied sort of smile to his reflection.

“I'll take the futon,” Iwaizumi says with a glance at Oikawa, pulling it out from under the bed and unrolling it. 

He sets to work finding the pillows and blankets from his last sleepover (which was a very long time ago so it takes a while, and a good deal of searching), and once he's finally got it all set up, Oikawa grabs his wrist and murmurs, “Sleep up here with me, like we used to,” his eyes almost slipping closed. 

“You could have said that before I'd set up the futon,” Iwaizumi grumbles, but he says nothing more and climbs into the bed next to Oikawa, pulling the covers over them with a small, pleased smile on his face.

 

–

Oikawa drops off quickly, and Iwaizumi is left alone.

They lay close together, facing each other, with their heads on one pillow. Iwaizumi stares at Oikawa's face through drooping eyelids. Stares at his pink lips that are open slightly in sleep, at the gentle fluttering of his eyelashes against his cheeks. He reaches over and gently smooths out the crease between Oikawa's eyebrows. Retraces the tracks he's made over Oikawa's heart, that grew into scars in their youth; he runs the calloused pad of his thumb along Oikawa's jaw and hopefully helps them heal. 

–

Iwaizumi wakes up to Oikawa's fingers on his ass. Or more accurately, tugging at the waistband of his pyjamas as he tilts his head to try to get an eyeful of his ass.

He blinks up at Oikawa blearily, confusion tugging his lips down, “What are you doing?” he asks, his voice rough from sleep.

“I wanted to see if there was a bruise,” he supplies amiably, as if that's a normal thing to do, and slips his hand lower.

Iwaizumi wrenches his hand away, “Don't look at my ass,” he grumbles, putting their joined hands on the pillow, between their heads.

Oikawa flips his hand over, lays his palm against Iwaizumi's and easily curls his fingers between Iwaizumi's, “But you have such a nice ass,” Oikawa says, laughter in his voice. Iwaizumi doesn't even hear his words, just stares at their hands with a blush creeping up his neck. 

-

Their last day together is tinged with a special kind of sadness. It makes them careful around one another, afraid to open up old wounds and undo the good that has been done by the past few days, but it also makes them reckless, time is running out and something is changing, needs to be changed but Iwaizumi isn't sure just yet if he wants it to (he just ignores it, even though it is like ignoring a particularly irritable itch). 

\--

They get ice creams from the general store and sit out on Iwaizumi's deck. Iwaizumi has a chocolate ice cream, and Oikawa a strawberry cone that is steadily melting down his arms. 

Iwaizumi can feel sweat gathering in the creases of his arms, in his armpits and the beginning of his hairline. He sighs, wipes the sweat off his forehead with a towel, before he finally decides to discard his shirt altogether and rips it off, over his head. 

He looks over at Oikawa, and is a little pleased, but also worried, to see he is fairing worse. His cheeks are a blotchy red, and his hair sticks to his forehead. “It's hot today, huh?” Iwaizumi says, munching on the last few bites of his cone.

“Yeah,” Oikawa agrees lazily, his cone forgotten and melting in his hands, as he blinks down at his lap, sweat rolling into his eyes. Iwaizumi takes his cone from him, discards it in the bin as he goes inside and grabs a cloth to wipe Oikawa's sticky hands with.

He brings out an electric fan a while later, connected by an extension lead, and Oikawa sits in front of it, cross-legged, his hair blowing back with the breeze and a happy smile on his face. 

Iwaizumi watches him fondly, then turns away to stare at the green grass of his lawn, fresh from the rain but dried of dew by the hot summer sun. A bee buzzes passed (it comes near Oikawa who shrieks, and stupidly waves his arms around) and then disappears into the bushes that have small flowers blooming on them. 

Iwaizumi opens his mouth after a moment to speak, his lips a little dry so he runs his tongue across them (Oikawa watches, transfixed, out of the corner of his eye). 

He begins a moment later, “Do you remember that time when...” and Iwaizumi starts off on a long rambling kind of story, a smile growing on his lips as he goes on, but Oikawa's eyes haven't gotten any clearer by the end of it.

“No, sorry,” he says apologetically, and it makes things a little awkward, for a moment.

Until Iwaizumi looks at him, chewing his lip, and asks, “Do you want to look at some old photographs?”.

-

Oikawa crowds in close, next to him on the bed, both of them lying on their stomachs as they flick through the pages of a creaking photo album. “This was you at your last volleyball match?” Oikawa asks, reading the tag line running underneath, and Iwaizumi nods his head, “You look so happy,” Oikawa says, caressing the photo with a gentle finger. 

“I was,” Iwaizumi says, and Oikawa stares at the small smile on his lips. 

Oikawa points at another picture, “Was this at one of your birthdays?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi says, “my twelfth birthday party,” he continues on with, and looks down at his small, smiling face, cake crumbs clinging to his cheeks. 

“What about this one?” Oikawa asks, turning the page, and so it goes on. 

-

“Give me your hand,” Oikawa says suddenly, they've been laying on the bed next to each other in complete silence for a while and Iwaizumi startles at this interruption.

“Why?” he asks, although Oikawa is already taking it and slotting their fingers together. 

“You used to always hold my hand,” Oikawa gives in explanation, stroking his thumb across Iwaizumi's knuckles, his eyes soft and a fond smile on his lips.

“Did I?” Iwaizumi asks, staring at their hands in a quiet sort of reverence. 

He runs his own thumb across Oikawa's wrist, and Oikawa shivers involuntarily and looks up to meet his eyes with a gentle laugh bubbling out of his mouth. 

–

Oikawa leans over him again, his long fingers tracing Iwaizumi's jaw, and his eyes warm. His thumb strokes Iwaizumi's chin, and his other fingers curl beneath it, tilting his head up; his warm breath ghosting over Iwaizumi's lips. And Iwaizumi's eyes flutter closed, he's not sure what he wants, but nothing comes of it anyway. 

When he blinks open his eyes again, Oikawa has moved away and he stares blankly up at the empty air above him; Oikawa a warm presence at his side. 

Later, when it's too late, he realises he'd wanted to kiss him. The desire of it had made his lips burn, and eyes slide closed in anticipation. And he wonders if Oikawa had wanted it too. 

-

Oikawa looks out the window at the dipping sun, and says, “I should go,” and their carefully erected bubble of happiness pops. 

“Don't you want to stay for tea?” Iwaizumi asks in earnest, suddenly desperate for him to stay; afraid of what his departure could mean again. 

Oikawa shakes his head, and says, “I don't want to impose.” 

Iwaizumi doesn't say _you wouldn't be imposing_ like he should, like he wants to, instead he murmurs, quietly, “Okay,” and lets him go.

-

Oikawa hugs him tightly at the gate, his chin digging into Iwaizumi's shoulder, “I'll see you tomorrow?” he asks, his voice alight with poorly concealed hope. 

“Of course,” Iwaizumi says, hugging back just as tightly, his face pressed to Oikawa's neck. 

The sun disappears behind a cloud, and Oikawa lets go off him, holds one of Iwaizumi's cheeks in the palm of one hand, which Iwaizumi, almost imperceptibly, tilts his head into. “It's been good to see you,” Oikawa says, and his voice catches on some sort of emotion, one that twitches his lips downwards and makes his eyes briefly fill with tears; before he quickly blinks them away.

Iwaizumi puts his hand over his, and smiles, “I'm happy I saw you again,” he murmurs, and he means it, of course he does. 

Oikawa steps away from him fully now, his hand gently slipping off Iwaizumi's cheek and Iwaizumi feels its absence so strongly when its gone, it scares him a little. 

Iwaizumi watches him walk to the end of the street, at which he turns around, and calls over his shoulder, “Don't sleep in!”. He gives a wide wave as he turns the corner, a grin on his lips. 

Iwaizumi smiles softly, and waves back. 

-

Iwaizumi oversleeps. 

By the time he wakes the sun is not half-heartedly dragging itself up and breaking across the sky in hazy colours like it should be. It is high in the sky and burning bright.

He dresses in a rush, and races down to the old inn, his heart in his throat. When he gets there, and fumbling asks for Oikawa, he is told Oikawa checked out hours ago.

His heart sinks to the floor, and leaves without a word. 

He goes to the pier again, lets his toes skim the water and buries his face in his arms to hide his blurry eyes. His back shakes with his quiet, unbidden sobs, and his lips are cut into a deep frown. Tears spill quickly and silently down his cheeks and drip into his lap. 

Iwaizumi loses him again; but this isn't the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i carry your heart with me (i carry it in  
> my heart)  
> i am never without it (anywhere  
> i go you go,my dear;)
> 
> This took me forever lmao. I'm really sorry it's super long!! I hope you liked it though. I'm off to go sleep now. (I might edit some more tomorrow as there's a few parts I'm not super happy with, so some things might change, but for the most part this is it).
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Kudos and comments are always appreciated :)
> 
> (edit: my laptop is currently broken so I haven't been able to put up the fourth chapter yet. Sorry! thank you for your patience and hopefully I should have it back from the repair shop soon :))


	4. Part Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay!!! my computer crashed and I only got it back about a week ago, and then I was doing some school assignments so I only just recently found the time to write this – I had been planning it in the 2 months, but I hope I would have had it out sooner if i'd actually had my laptop (who knows, I am pretty lazy lol). Thank you so much for reading up until this point!! I really hope you enjoy the conclusion :) 
> 
> brief note: I'm going by university starting in September like it does in England

**BEGINNING**

The train shakes and sways beneath his feet as it zips along the railway tracks. The old leather of the chairs creaks as he leans back in his seat and tries to get comfy; as he tries to loosen the tenseness in the set of his shoulders. 

Iwaizumi rips of the cap of his water bottle with fumbling fingers, takes a long swig from the bottle and swills the water around his dry mouth. He glances back out the window behind him and sees the old sun dipping below the distant hills, breaking in soft colours across the sky.

He bites into his lip, catches sight of the skyscrapers rushing towards him out of the corner of his eye and slumps back in his seat; hands splayed on his lap, that nervously twitch up into fists, then flat again. The trees, and bush of the countryside shrinks back and skyscrapers and buildings burst up from the ground in their place behind his head.

He closes his eyes, breathes deeply; _once, twice, thrice_ before his shoulders finally sink back down to their natural level. 

His phone buzzes on the seat beside him and he looks down to see his phone-background illuminated, a picture of Oikawa winking and throwing a peace sign at the camera (one of the selfies that he'd sent him), and a message from the boy himself blinking on the screen. He scrubs a hand through his hair, smiles softly and picks up his phone. 

_“I'll be waiting for you,”_ reads the text; and Iwaizumi pulls the phone close to his chest, and stares back out the window. 

**Three months prior**

Iwaizumi graduates on a warm summers day. 

His mother and father sit proudly in the small crowd; his mother waves enthusiastically, her camera in hand, when he takes to the stage to shake hands with the principal. Iwaizumi pins on a smile, and tries to not remember that whenever he thought of this day in his youth Oikawa had been by his side, and he would be waiting for him when he came off the stand; his smile wavers, and collapses when he takes the stairs down and finds himself alone (without the congratulatory hug of his best friend). 

When he takes his seat again, he zones out entirely, looking up to the cloudless blue sky and wonders what Oikawa is doing right now. 

-

(“Where do you think we'll be when he graduate high school?” Oikawa asks, stretched out on the dew-wet grass beside him. They watch two gulls swooping above them against the backdrop of a bright, cloud-filled day.

“I'm not sure,” Iwaizumi answers after a moment, “I hope to be taller,” he says sincere, simple and so very _Hajime_.

Oikawa snorts, then bites on his tongue; looking away to hide the laughter brimming in his eyes. “Well,” he says, “I hope to be still playing volleyball.”

“So do I,” Iwaizumi agrees quickly, he hadn't thought of that only because he _knew_ he still would be. “And I hope we're still playing it side by side”.

“Of course we would be,” Oikawa says, a laugh in his voice like he can't think of anything more funny, “I'm always going to by your side,” he says, and Iwaizumi likes the determination and the promise he hears in his words; it makes him feel warm on the inside. 

They are quiet a moment. Indulging in the natural silence of the earth; the whispering breeze, the flap of a birds wings, and the faraway rush of the sea. And then one of the gulls takes that moment to poo near Oikawa's head, and he leaps up screeching whilst Iwaizumi dissolves into loud peals of laughter at his side.)

–

He imagines Oikawa on the day that he left. Standing at the dock, the boat behind him as he stared at the beginning of the street opposite; waiting for Iwaizumi to appear, only to have him not. And his hopeful smile would slowly drop, until it disappeared and then he'd turn, and step onto the boat and away from Iwaizumi all over again (and Iwaizumi wouldn't even get to say goodbye this time). 

– 

Iwaizumi sits up in his room, his face empty, with no thoughts in his head; nothing but the feeling of _remorse, remorse, remorse_ as he stares at the graduation cap pinned to his wall. 

He screws up his eyes, and turns away from it, lying on his side. He pulls his arm up over his face, and his back, still dressed in his black robes shakes a moment with his tears; _damn it, damn it, damn it all_ he'd lost Tooru again, and he didn't think there'd ever be a chance he'd get him back. 

It'd been two weeks since he'd left, and this was meant to be one of the happiest days of his life but damn did the pain still feel as fresh as ever. Salt had only been added to it that day when he came home and his parents had asked him if Tooru had gotten on the boat safely; because he didn't know and his parents knew not to ask anymore. 

“Hajime!” His mother calls from the bottom of stairs, and he wishes she'd leave him be just for the moment, “You've got a letter!” and he's up and out of bed before she can say his name twice. 

Iwaizumi rips the letter from his mother's hands, feels his heart in his throat, stares at the penned in the address on the front and feels a smile fill up his face in relief. “Thanks mum,” he murmurs, and turns back up the stairs; she watches him with happy eyes, and goes to go tell her husband that Tooru had been in touch.

Sitting quietly on his bed, he tears open the letter with fumbling fingers.

“Hello Hajime, I suppose you graduated today (if this letter gets there on time). I'm sorry I couldn't make it as it's something I always wanted to see; you'll have to send me pictures to make up for it (promise?). Congratulations! I'm very happy and proud of you. I also want you to know I don't blame you for not being there when I left; you had tiring day playing in the sand the day before Hajime, small children need to get their sleep. Don't worry about it though. Here's my number so send me a text so we can keep in touch, I miss you. Love Tooru”.

Iwaizumi stares at the letter for many moments after; his lips form the words, and he traces them with his fingers. He wipes at the tears on his face with the back of his hand, before he collapses back on his bed, a smile on his lips as the bubble of warmth expands in his chest again. 

– 

After the graduation celebratory meal his mother had planned, and his father had cooked, and after a big thank you from Iwaizumi and a cheesy speech his mother had prepared, which his father sits misty-eyed through; Iwaizumi heads up to his room with one thing on his mind, _text Tooru_.

He digs out his phone from where it had slipped down the crack between his bed and the wall the night before. Iwaizumi sits for five minutes just staring at his phone after he's typed in the number, takes fifteen minutes on picking the best graduation photos out of the fifty his mum sent him, and ten minutes deliberating over the message to attach with it, he decides on ' _hey tooru_ '. 

He then sits, not so patiently, trying to read the book his dad had given him as his fingers tap out a steady rhythm on his thigh. He almost pounces on his phone when it lights up a few minutes later with a message. 

' _Hajime!_ ' the text cries in exclamation, and Iwaizumi smiles. The dotted line comes up to show Oikawa is still typing, and Iwaizumi waits, and a paragraph comes in: ' _oh I love the pictures, Hajime! You look so handsome in your robes_ \- Iwaizumi tries to pretend he doesn't blush at that - ' _I'm out at the moment, but I'll reply properly when I get home_.'

' _With who?_ ' he types out after a moment of staring at the message, and then rolls his thumb back over the delete button _because_ he won't know the people and he's afraid he'll sound jealous, although maybe he is a little bit jealous. ' _what are u doing?_ ' he asks instead.

' _I'm about to go see a movie, I'll talk to you later, okay Hajime?_ ' Oikawa replies.

' _Sure_.' Iwaizumi texts back with a smile, ' _Talk to you later_.'

–

Iwaizumi starts his first day at the bakery the very first day after graduation. His dad comes into his room at the crack of dawn, and gently shakes him awake; a kind, soft smile on his face that is too bright for how early it is.

“What is it?” Iwaizumi grumbles, letting his eyes flicker open, and then closed again.

“It's your first day, and working at the bakery means an early start,” his dad says, heading for the door, “I've made you breakfast so come downstairs when you are ready.”

“Ugh,” Iwaizumi groans, rolling over in his bed and back under the warm embrace of his blanket, promising himself he'll get up in five more minutes. (He has to be woken a second time half an hour later by his mum's yelling as she marches up the stairs).

–

The Iwaizumi family bakery is a long-standing enterprise of twenty years, and it looks exactly like your typical bakery; polished wood everywhere, a polished counter, polished stools set up by the window accompanied with a polished table, and then, obscured from the customers view, is the stainless steel kitchen and the many, many racks where the bread is left to cool.

Although Iwaizumi had spent a lot of his childhood in and out of the kitchens (he unfortunately hadn't absorbed any useful baking know-how in that time; there was no treasure trove of almost forgotten recipes stored away in the back of his mind waiting to be unleashed like he'd hoped), he spent most of his teenage years out. He finds out two things on his first day, the heat of a bakery kitchen is one of the worst things he has ever experienced in his life, and that he is very far behind in the cooking skill he needs to be at, which he is unhappy to find out, is not genetic (although maybe his mother's skill is, but fortunately he has at least been graced with the ability to improve). 

Baking, he decides as he messes up his fifth batch of muffins that day, is not as easy as he thought it'd be. 

– 

“How was your first day?” Oikawa asks over the phone, as he shovels cereal into his mouth at 8 o'clock at night because Oikawa is the perfect example of an athlete with a healthy diet. 

“Tiring,” Iwaizumi yawns, fighting to keep his eyes open; his voice slurred in his sleepiness. “I never thought my dad could be the mean parent until today; he taught me how to make the simplest bread for four hours straight, drilling it into my head over and over, and then switched me to working the counter for another four”. 

“Your dad, _mean_?” Oikawa says, cocking an eyebrow in disbelief, “I've never heard such a bold-faced lie”.

Iwaizumi shrugs, “Well,” he starts, “I suppose compared to my mum with how she gets sometimes he's an angel, and maybe he is anyway, but the point is he made me work for 8 hours, _Tooru_ ”. 

He yawns again, much louder and longer than before, and then nuzzles his face into his pillow with a loud, wet smack of his lips. “So tired,” he slurs without much coherence. 

Oikawa laughs, and says, “You do sound tired,” he picks at a tear in his jeans, and then looks up and out his window, out towards where he thinks the ocean and Iwaizumi is. “I'll let you go, but I'll be here waiting for you tomorrow.” 

“Thanks,” Iwaizumi murmurs, his eyes already closed. “Goodnight Tooru,” he sighs softly. 

“Goodnight Hajime,” He returns quietly, and in his tired state Iwaizumi misses the amount of unadulterated fondness Oikawa imbues those two words with; he just clicks of his phone, completely unaware, before shoving it underneath his pillow and falling asleep without delay.

–

Iwaizumi wakes up on his own the next morning to no less than five selfies from Oikawa lighting up his phone screen, all from that morning. Each selfie is followed by a caption, the first is of a sleepy-faced looking Oikawa holding a cup of coffee with: ' _morning coffee_ ' like the cringe-machine he is, the next is of him pulling a disgusted face: ' _I decided I don't like coffee_ '. The third photo follows a few minutes later, with Oikawa with a banana coloured mush smeared on his face and otherwise pristine skin, ' _I decided to make a smoothie instead_ ', the next is of him grimacing and pouring the smoothie down the sink, ' _I don't make a very good smoothie_ '. And finally, him back in his bed, ' _I've decided to go back to sleep, have a good day at work Hajime!_ '. 

He heads downstairs, still staring at the pictures, with a dopey smile on his face, and a messy bed head. 

–

Iwaizumi gets out of work a little before sunset, after saying goodbye to his parents at the shop front he heads down to the empty beach and takes a seat in the soft sand, tipping onto his back and holding his head in his arms. 

He pulls out his phone when the sun begins to set, and takes some pictures to send to Oikawa later on. He watches the soft colours glimmer atop the high, but calm and dark ocean, until the sun dips down and out of sight, and then the sky is dark but for the pale glow of the moon. 

The stars come out one by one as he walks home, and a texts from Oikawa brightens his phone screen, ' _That looks so pretty! I hope that we get to watch a sunset together one day, Hajime_ '.

' _Of course we will, you idiot_ ' he replies fondly. 

–

Iwaizumi sends a hello to Oikawa, mentions that he finally got out of work along with a picture of his croissants with the caption: ' _dad finally let me make them_ '.

' _They look a little burnt_ ', Oikawa replies back in two seconds flat. 

Iwaizumi frowns grumpily, deciding he can't deny it because, well, they do look a little burnt so he simply puts: ' _better than anything you can make_ ' and smirks to himself because it has to be true. 

' _I'll have you know I am the best crème brulee chef in all of Japan_ ' and Iwaizumi can imagine him saying that with a matter-of-fact smile, hand on hip and a waggling finger; he chuckles to himself, shaking his head. 

He sticks his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, holding his phone in both hands and types out with both thumbs: ' _probably because it's not a japanese dish_.'

' _Neither are croissants_ ' Oikawa sends back with a flash of his fingers across his keyboard, and a smug grin. 

Iwaizumi chooses to tactically ignore that, and instead says, ' _make some for me next time_.'

' _Okay_ ' Oikawa replies, and it feels good to be making these promises, even if they are small things like dessert and sunsets. 

–

Iwaizumi remembers Oikawa's birthday this year, his had already passed by the time Oikawa came back into his life, he sends him a card in the mail just like old times and Iwaizumi is the first one Oikawa calls that day to say thank you. 

–

“How's work?” Oikawa asks him over the phone, loudly chewing on the end of his pen as he turns over a page in his book. 

Iwaizumi grimaces and says, “It's fine,” which isn't exactly a lie. He pauses a moment so it doesn't seem obvious, then he quickly moves the conversation along. “How's uni?” he asks, even though he's not sure he wants to know about the world he's not apart of (but he does want to know about Tooru, he always does).

“I haven't started yet,” Oikawa smiles, “so right now I'm just trying to make myself into a more well-rounded individual by reading and watching films so I'll have something more to myself than volleyball, and hopefully find it easier to make new friends at University”. 

Iwaizumi doesn't say _there's already something special about you without all that_ because that would be cheesy, so instead he asks, “What are you reading?”.

“A book of classic poems,” Oikawa replies with a sigh, “I've decided I don't like poetry”.

Iwaizumi snorts, “Based on one book?” he says, and then adds, “Maybe you just read one by a bad author? I quite like reading poetry sometimes”. 

“Oh, you read it?” Oikawa asks, not even trying to mask his surprise. 

“Yes,” Iwaizumi says slowly, “I read”.

“And here I was thinking you didn't know the alphabet,” Oikawa says, “but you're actually onto poetry – wow, Hajime, you never cease to amaze me”.

“Shut up,” Iwaizumi cuts back, but he's smiling. 

–

Working in the bakery is okay. It's fine, _really_. He likes working with his parents, and it fills the time in his day, and gives him something to do opposed to just sitting around doing nothing. 

However now that he's actually working there he's not sure if it's what he wants to spend the rest of his life doing (which is depressing enough to think about on its own), but for the moment it's what he needs, something to do whilst he tries to figure everything out; so he doesn't feel like he's just floundering around without a purpose, whilst being left more and more behind by his peers by each passing day. He needs something to keep him busy, to make sure he has a reason to get up and out of his bed and isn't just wasting away his days wallowing in self-pity and doubt about his future; and the bakery works just fine for that.

–

“How is Tooru?” his mother asks as she comes in to say goodnight, she tucks the bedding tight around him; even though he likes to sleep loose and open, with one leg hanging off the side and his whole body halfway off the bed by the time he wakes up in the morning. 

“He's good,” Iwaizumi tells her, looking down at his cocooned body and dying to wriggle out as soon as she leaves. “He's beginning university soon,” he says, with a touch of pride in his voice and a smile, “I wonder what that's like, I wonder if he's excited or nervous. I hope he's excited”.

His mother is quiet a moment, watching him ramble, and then she says, “Hajime,” and by the tone of her voice he knows something he may not want to hear is going to come out. She strokes down a lock of his hair, and straightens out the bedding around his neck, not meeting his eyes as she asks, cautiously, “Did you ever consider going to university?”.

Iwaizumi grimaces and looks away from her, “I thought about it,” he says, even though he didn't really, “but I just didn't want to leave home just yet.” The truth is, he was _scared_ and didn't feel ready to leave everything that was familiar whilst pushing himself out of him comfort zone.

“That's fine,” she says kindly, patting down his bedsheets that don't _need_ any more patting down with skittish hands and pursed lips. 

“I know it is,” he says, suddenly annoyed – even though he knows he's just getting annoyed with her for bringing up what he's been mulling over for a while now, but isn't ready to talk about.

She raises a sharp eyebrow, and finally meets his eyes straight on. “I'm glad you do,” she says, suddenly equally annoyed and she fires up off his bed. She turns at the door, stares at him a moment with warm eyes and snaps, “Goodnight Hajime, I hope you have sweet dreams”. 

“Goodnight, Mum,” he snaps back, and almost smiles; even though he's not sure he feels like it, her words have got him thinking again and in a place he doesn't want to be, but he can't stay mad at her when all she was doing was looking out for him – he knows she is, but he doesn't want to think about what she'd said just yet. 

He wriggles onto his side in his cocoon, and frowns, glaring at the wall. 

–

 

His mother starts to leave university pamphlets out for him, and she doesn't even try to be subtle about it; she tucks them into the books he's reading, hides them under his sheets so he finds them at the end of the day, leaves them out in the open on top of his desk and Iwaizumi takes one look at them before dumping them in a desk drawer and slamming it shut. 

(His mother stops soon after; she doesn't want to rush him, or make him feel like he needs to choose university, she just wants him to know he has that as an option and that they'll stand behind him even if he does choose to go.) 

–

(Oikawa stands beneath him on the court, his eyes locked with his, gaze intense as Iwaizumi lands beside him, his hand still burning with the winning spike he'd just sent over the net.

There is complete silence for a moment, before the cheers erupt in the stands and they sound like background static in his ears. Iwaizumi stands completely still, staring at the pink skin of his hand in awe, as his chest rises and falls with each deep, ragged breath. 

“You were amazing, Hajime!” Oikawa cries, clapping a hand to his shoulder as he beams his toothy grin close to Iwaizumi's face. 

“Thank you,” Iwaizumi says, still completely breathless as he smiles up at his best friend, “You were amazing, too,” and Oikawa flushes happily at his words. 

He finally drops his hand back to his side, and after a moment he feels Oikawa surreptitiously linking their fingers together.)

–

Oikawa calls him in the middle of night, having just woken up his voice is throaty, and tired and Iwaizumi hates, and doesn't particularly understand, what it does to him.

“I was just thinking about you,” Iwaizumi says when he picks up the phone, a cheesy grin on his lips.

“You're sweet,” Oikawa says, “I was thinking about you too, that's why I called.” 

Iwaizumi sinks deeper into his bed, relaxed at the sound of his voice. 

“I miss you,” Oikawa whispers in a quick breath, like a rush of wind coming in through an open window.

Iwaizumi shivers, and sits up, eyes wide, before he says back, equally quiet, “I miss you, too,” and he closes his eyes tight. 

And it's silent for a while, until Oikawa yawns loudly, and murmurs, “I'm really tired.”

“Go to sleep, Tooru,” he says fondly.

“Okay,” Oikawa sighs, and when the call ends with a _click_ Iwaizumi crawls beneath the covers to hide his bright grin because _Tooru_ misses him and it makes his chest feel impossibly light. 

– 

Iwaizumi tries his hand at selfies, but decides he doesn't have the confidence Oikawa has to pull them off, or he assumes Oikawa has with the amount of selfies he gets sent each day. He makes fun of him for it, of course, but Iwaizumi dutifully saves each one. 

 

– 

Oikawa falls asleep talking to him one night, and Iwaizumi tucks the phone next to his ear, and settles down himself, falling asleep to the sound of Oikawa's even, gentle breathing. 

– 

“I think I had a crush on you when we were younger,” Oikawa starts conversationally as he shoves a chip into his mouth.

Iwaizumi pauses his nintendo game, and sits straight up on his bed, “You did?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Oikawa whispers, like he's telling a secret which in a way he is. “You were always helping me, and looking out for me and I just felt so warm and safe around you,” he says, and Iwaizumi can hear the smile in his voice, “You were very special to me in a way that no one else was, you still are, I guess.”

“Thanks,” Iwaizumi says quietly, “you are special to me too.”

“What did you think of me?” Oikawa asks, shoving another chip into his mouth and chewing it loudly. 

“I don't know,” Iwaizumi says, covering his suddenly flaming red face with a hand. 

Oikawa makes a disgruntled sound, and he quickly adds, “I remember I liked your hair a lot,” he says, and his voice goes quiet in reminiscence. “And I liked holding your hand, and when you slept next to me,” he breaks off, thinks back over the years they've spent together that seem bigger, and closer now than any years they spent apart. 

Oikawa laughs delightedly. “Sounds like you had a crush,” he teases. 

“Shut up,” he grumbles back, “It's not that big a deal, we were kids,” and Oikawa's laughter comes to an abrupt end. 

“No,” Oikawa says quietly, “I guess not.” And the quiet defeat in his voice haunts Iwaizumi's thoughts for the rest of the week. 

–

Iwaizumi films a second sunset which he hopes Oikawa will take as some sort of apology for whatever way he'd upset him.

He sprawls out in the sand, phone in hand as he records the suns slow descent from its high altar in the sky with his tongue stuck out in concentration. He sends it off with his heart thundering in his ears, and counts the seconds it takes for a reply.

' _All I can hear is your heavy panting._ '

Iwaizumi's brow crumples in confusion, ' _what?_ ' he types back.

' _In the video,_ ' Oikawa responds, and Iwaizumi can tell that he's probably just rolled his eyes.

Iwaizumi frowns, and stabs viciously at the keys, typing out his next message, ' _well, I had to run down here to film it so I'm /sorry/ if my panting bothers you_ '. 

It's a long time before he gets a reply, and Iwaizumi waits, glaring at the setting sun. The reply finally comes as, ' _aww you did that for me?_ ' and Iwaizumi knows they are okay.

–

Iwaizumi can't stop thinking about Oikawa, and he doesn't know why, but he's come up with some reasons. 

He sleeps with his window open, his ac having quit the game after being on for three weeks straight and the summer rain, tinkling on the sloped roof outside his window kind of reminds him vaguely of Oikawa laughter (even though Oikawa's laughter is more like a ' _haw, haw, haw_ ' than a tinkle) – just Oikawa sweeps into his head at the sound of it, and he's certain that must be why. 

He sees the first loaf of bread of the day and Oikawa is already in his head so he thinks it must be because _Oikawa likes bread_ \- because what other reason could there be? 

They're stupid reasons, he knows, but he needs them because he's just so damn confused by it and thinking about things logically helps him get his head straight (even though, that's definitely not what his head is – his head definitely leans more towards bisexuality than anything else).

It's only much, much later that he realises he's in love (and that he maybe always has been). He'd never loved in this way before, he didn't realise he was falling until he had, and even after he has it still takes him a long while to catch on. All he knows at this point in time was that Oikawa was constantly in his head and it was stupid things, such as bread, that put him into it. 

– 

“Let's have a real conversation here Hajime,” Oikawa interrupts his very _real_ spiel about how difficult it is to ice cupcakes, but he easily let's it go.

“What do you want to talk about?” He asks, sinking back against his pillows, one arm tucked behind his head. 

“Well, this is kind of personal to me,” and Iwaizumi can tell it is already, because he's gone all quiet like he used to when he told a secret. He begins in a rush: “One of my biggest fears in life is that I'll run out of things to talk about with the people I care most about, and our time will just be filled with awkward pauses, and then they'll just find me boring.”

Iwaizumi smiles softly, and says, “Well, if it's you and me, and we run out of things to say I don't think I'll mind, I just like being with you.” 

Oikawa is quiet a long moment, long enough for Iwaizumi to wonder if he's still there, and then he replies, his voice oddly thick, “You're surprisingly cheesy,” but Iwaizumi can tell that he's smiling.

“Is that a good thing?” Iwaizumi asks. 

“Of course,” Oikawa replies, sincere – because anything that you are is a good thing. 

–

 

“I started university today,” Oikawa says when he picks up the phone, and for some godawful reason Iwaizumi's heart sinks to the floor.

“How was it?” He asks, reluctantly fascinated. 

“It was _great_ ,” Oikawa says, and he launches into a minute by minute run through about orientation, his dorm room, his new volleyball team and coach; and Iwaizumi's heart grows _heavier_ and _heavier_ by the second. 

 

–

 

Time stretches on into one long immeasurable line. He gets up, goes to work and goes back to sleep. He doesn't notice as the days pass, they all seem to blur into one anyway; they end, and he moves onto the next one without much thought. He thinks he's definitely happy; he's got Oikawa, and his family too. But he feels like something's missing. He feels unfulfilled. 

He comes to the conclusion when;

Iwaizumi stays behind after work, practising his baking after hours much like the extra practice sessions he had with Oikawa, except this time he's got dough on his hands instead of a volleyball. 

It is in these few hours of excessive swearing, burnt fingers and, somehow, very frequent near misses that Iwaizumi decides that baking is not for him; at least not at this point in his life. He thinks it might be something he would return to as his dad had said _it's in his blood_ although his dad is the only person he knows of in his family who is a baker, but whatever – he just wants to find something he can be as passionate about as his dad is about baking, and Oikawa is about volleyball, and his mum clearly is about yelling when she comes in the next morning and finds him sleeping in the mess of the kitchen he'd left from the night before. He desperately yearns for something more. 

He gets sent home to bed, and his parents exchange a worried look as he grabs his coat and leaves without a word.

Iwaizumi slumps in his desk chair, spinning about in a tired circle whilst gazing blankly up at the swirls patterned on his ceiling, eyes glazed. Then he glances to the drawer that is now packed full with university pamphlets. Bites his lip. Spins a little longer. He decides he doesn't want to have any regrets.

He leans down to the drawer, rips them out and turns a first page over. 

–

 

“Mum, Dad,” he says, a few weeks later, “I need to talk to you.” They all sit down round the dinner table, his parents exchange a nervous look, the air about them thick with tension. 

Iwaizumi steeples his fingers, and leans his forehead against them. He breathes deeply,closes his eyes and says, “I'm thinking about going to university,” and then waits for the explosion. 

It's silent a long moment, and then his mother _laughs_. “I thought you were going to tell us something terrible,” she says, grasping his hands across the table as laughter continues to bubble out, “Oh, that's wonderful news Hajime!”.

He looks to his dad after a moment, and his dad is smiling gently, looking at his mum and it's so sickeningly sweet that Iwaizumi has to roll his eyes. “I'm happy for you,” his dad says, sincere, when he finally catches his eye, “I hope you know we both support you with whatever you choose to do.”

“Thanks,” Iwaizumi says – he feels a lump forming in his throat, and he lifts a hand to cover his face; eternally glad that he has parents like them. 

 

– 

Iwaizumi has read through a number of the university pamphlets (pamphlet, after pamphlet, after pamphlet – he's honestly going to _die_ if he has to read another one) but he keeps coming back to Oikawa's university – when he'd showed them his choice his dad had said it sounded good because it had volleyball, and his mum had grinned smugly and said 'it also has Tooru'. 

And Tooru is only part of the reason. Iwaizumi's responsible enough to not base a massive life-decision on where Tooru is but it really is a good school – there's a couple of other universities which are on the same level and have the courses he wants, but this one comes out on top because of Tooru – and it's ultimately the reason why he picks it in the end. 

– 

His acceptance letter arrives; it's conditional, based on the commitment that Iwaizumi will quickly make good on his promise to catch up on any of the work he's missed (and it's only been allowed due to the fact that Iwaizumi really does have very good grades) - but he's in, he's _really_ in, and Iwaizumi can't stop smiling. 

His parents are ecstatic and proud, and his mother pulls him into a tight, crushing hug whilst his dad ruffles his hair.

And Iwaizumi can't wait to tell Oikawa. 

– 

“Hey, Hajime!” Oikawa greets brightly, and Iwaizumi is suddenly seized more by nerves than excitement. 

He breathes out a long, steadying breath. “Oikawa,” he begins slowly, “I'm going to be attending your university come October”. 

Oikawa is quiet a long moment, and Iwaizumi is almost afraid he's hung up (he pulls his phone away to check, but the numbers still tick on) and then Oikawa draws in a loud, shaky breath, “Are you being serious?” he asks. 

“Of course I am,” Iwaizumi says, voice gone gentle, “I wouldn't lie about something like this.”

Oikawa is quiet again, before he breathes, sounding in awe of his next words, “We can play volleyball together again.”

Iwaizumi's breath catches, then his lip lifts up in a lop-sided smile, “Yeah,” he says, “We can.”

When they hang up, Iwaizumi stares down at his silent phone, then turns his gaze to the dark window and the thundering rain outside that doesn't seem as close, or as loud (or as suffocating) anymore. 

– 

On a break from planning and packing they watch a film together, or they at least try to.

They try to sync up the films, but Iwaizumi's ends up a little ahead and he ends up laughing at all the jokes before Oikawa catches up. Sometimes Oikawa purposefully holds back his own laughter, and just listens to Iwaizumi's play out, he smiles and feels his heart _thump, thump_ out of time.  
– 

On his last day at the bakery his parents send him out early, his mother practically pushes him out the door. He goes for a walk around his island, hands shoved in his pockets and he really takes in how small his home truly is – when he finds a tree high up enough, he can see from one end of the island and directly to the other – and maybe, for the moment, he's grown out of it; but he knows he'll always comes back because it is, and always will be, his home. 

He sits at the pier, dipping his feet into the bitterly cold sea, and he gazes out across the dark water, out towards a far away city (where a boy he loves waits for him) and it doesn't seem so scary anymore, he wonders what he'll find there. 

–

He stares up at the waning moon outside his window, his face smushed to his mum's neck, “What a sad day it is,” she cries dramatically, “my child is leaving the nest tomorrow”.

“Mum, can you please let go of me,” Iwaizumi pleads, but she ignores him (and he's kind of glad that she does). She simply shushes him, and rocks him back and forth in her arms.

His dad hesitates in the doorway a moment, then steps in, sitting on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Not too good now that I'm being strangled half to death,” Iwaizumi grunts, and his dad chuckles. 

His dad then puts a hand on his mum's arm, and she stares at his face, her smile wobbles and then she lets Iwaizumi go (a little reluctantly) and they both stand up, hovering at his side. “We'll let you get some sleep,” his dad says, and reaches forward to gently ruffle his hair (Iwaizumi closes his eyes at the touch).

His mother tucks him into bed with a tense smile, brushes his hair off his face and then leaves him, they watch him from the doorway – a soft look on their faces, “Goodnight, Hajime,” they say and Iwaizumi smiles at them and doesn't let it falter until they close the door.

He pulls his blankets up over his head and tries to will himself not to be scared. 

–

“Make sure to come back here with Tooru,” his mother says as she wrenches him into a hug, tears on her face.

Iwaizumi hesitantly puts his arms around her, then squeezes her back equally as hard. “Why would I come back here with Tooru?” he asks, his voice muffled as his face is pressed into her shoulder.

She pulls back to give him a withering look. “Like we both don't know the answer to _that_ ,” she says, and Iwaizumi flushes.

His dad hugs him too, and they both awkwardly slap each other on the back as tears leak from their eyes, “I'm going to miss you so much,” his dad rumbles, his large body shaking with his quiet sobs.

“I'm going to miss you, too,” Iwaizumi murmurs, his face buried in his dad's strong arms. His mother watches them, a handkerchief pulled to her eyes and a loving smile on her face. 

The ferry toots its horn, the ropes begin to be pulled in from the docks and Iwaizumi pulls away from them and mops at his eyes.

“I'll call you as soon as I get the chance,” he promises, and they nod, his mother leaning heavily into his fathers arms.

His mother gives him a strained smile, “We love you so much.”

“We're so proud of you,” his father adds. 

“I know,” Iwaizumi says, a lump in his throat – the ferry toots again, he turns to it, then back to them and then his mother whispers, 'go'.

Iwaizumi gets on the boat and waves until he can't see them at all anymore, and then he collapses down in his seat, arms burning from exertion. He sucks up his tears, and tries to smile but it's so damn hard right now. 

–

The train rattles from left to right as it draws to a stand still at the station; and Iwaizumi grips the back of his seat, eyes wide and back tense like a frightened cat, thrown out of his element.

He gets up, after a moment to get his bearings and when he's sure the train has _definitely_ stopped, grabs his case and rucksack from the overhang and heads for the crowded automatic doors. 

Iwaizumi steps off the train and onto the platform, breathing deeply in the fresh air, the people from his carriage dispersing left and right around him; before he blinks open his eyes in the muted light of the fading day.

And Oikawa is there, and he looks so...so _breathtaking, beautiful, heart-wrenchingly perfect?_ , Iwaizumi isn't quite sure (perhaps all three) but his heart definitely stutters in his chest at the sight of him. Their gazes meet at the same time, Oikawa's head turning towards him, and it is made quite clear, quite immediately, how badly Iwaizumi had underestimated the exact amount of emotional turmoil that would erupt on his insides at seeing Oikawa again. 

A loud, hoarse and uncontrollable noise rips out of his throat. His eyes are burning with tears, and a large, wobbling frown pulls his lips tight, and then he's running, and Oikawa's running too, racing toward each other. Oikawa slams into him, almost toppling him off his feet, but Iwaizumi wraps him in his arms and pulls him into a fierce hug, shoving his face into Oikawa's shoulder, and he breathes, and shakes, and says, voice wrecked, “I missed you, I missed you so much.”

Oikawa nuzzles his face into the short spikes of his hair, and Iwaizumi is almost sure he feels him press a kiss there. “I missed you too,” he says quietly, his fingers tightening on Iwaizumi's shoulders.

And Iwaizumi laughs, turns his face up to grin at him with tears glistening in the happy crinkles around his eyes; that Oikawa reaches forward to wipe away with a gentle thumb, a soft look in his eyes.

Iwaizumi's sure they look a right pair, like complete, utter nutjobs, but he can't find it in himself to care, not one bit.

–

Oikawa slips his hand into Iwaizumi's, palms flat together, fingers between his and drags him from the station (and it feels so familiar, so very much like coming home that Iwaizumi _almost_ cries all over again). “There's so much for you to see Hajime!” he cries, a delighted smile on his face and Iwaizumi can't stop looking at him. 

He'd worried he was under dressed for the city, in his comfy clothes for travelling; a vest, cardigan and basketball shorts. But Oikawa ambles along side him at perfect ease, dressed in very much the same attire, and he decides that the city is not the fashion hub he thought it was, and is an oddity he has yet to understand (but he thinks Oikawa has never looked better – but that could just be the time apart talking, as they say _absence makes the hard grow fonder_ ). 

–

Iwaizumi gasps as they walk beneath the tall skyscrapers, his head craned back to try and see the tops that stretch up into the darkening sky. He drags Oikawa over to watch a street performer who still hasn't packed up for the day, and then over to the windows of a large shopping outlet; and Oikawa watches him, a fond smile on his lips. 

The street lights flicker on above them and Oikawa continues to blabber on about the places he wants to take him, then pauses suddenly and Iwaizumi tears his eyes away from a window display. “But first,” he says, and grins, “Let me take you somewhere special”.

–

When the overhead light flickers on ahead the floor sparkles, blindingly bright; Iwaizumi has to blink several times to clear his sight.

The university gym is bigger than any gym Iwaizumi has ever set foot in (total count: 1), and this gym is only used for volleyball, Oikawa tells him, it has a row of stands where spectators can sit, a clubroom branching off at the back of the hall _and_ it also has air conditioning. 

“Wow,” Iwaizumi says to that last one, thinking back over summers in his youth laying on the floor of the 'gym' bathed in a horrible amount of sweat, “That must be amazing.”

“Yeah,” Oikawa grins, then prods Iwaizumi in the arm and adds, “I can put in a good word for you with the coach.”

Iwaizumi snorts, scratching at the back of his neck sheepishly. “I haven't played volleyball in years,” he murmurs; he doubts he'd make it onto a university level team even with Oikawa's recommendation.

Oikawa steps close to him, his hand slipping down Iwaizumi's arm to his wrist, “Then how about we play some now?” his eyes flash up to Iwaizumi's, and there's something in them that Iwaizumi could never refuse even if he'd wanted to. “Let me toss to you again.”

“Okay,” he breathes, eyes on Oikawa's. Then his body relaxes, and a grin slips into place.

–

Iwaizumi lands back down beside him; breathing heavily, his hand stinging with a familiar pain he'd almost forgotten. 

He lifts the end of his shirt and wipes away the sweat on his forehead; Oikawa pants next to him, his own face shiny with sweat and the ends of his hair curl close to his forehead.

“One more time,” Oikawa grins when he catches him looking, and Iwaizumi nods in agreement.

Oikawa tosses up the ball on the tips of his fingers with expert precision and Iwaizumi runs, then jumps, his eyes trained on the ball. He smacks it down, and sends it flying over the net where it hits the court on the opposite side with a resounding _smack_.

They both watch it roll off the court in silence, then Oikawa laughs giddily and slams into him from the side, crushing him up against his sweaty body in a tight hug. “I'm so happy to be playing volleyball with you again,” he says, and nuzzles his cheek into Iwaizumi's hair.

Iwaizumi feels something warm bloom in his chest, his fingers crushed between both their bodies tighten in Oikawa's shirt, and he tilts his head to the side, and presses a kiss to Oikawa's sharp jawline without really thinking about it. They both still, and Iwaizumi doesn't think he breathes for a couple of long seconds.

“Uh, sorry,” Iwaizumi says embarrassedly, not meeting his eyes. He begins to move away, and Oikawa's arms that had been slipping off his shoulders suddenly seize up, pulling him back to him. Iwaizumi looks up in surprise, “Huh?”.

“Do that again,” Oikawa orders, his face ablaze, “but this time on my mouth”. Iwaizumi's eyes dart down to his lips, then back up. 

And Iwaizumi says, “Oh,” a blush stretches across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, and he smiles softly, looking down. “Are you sure?” he murmurs, just barely audible over the rush of end of day traffic outside. 

“Yes!” Oikawa cries, maybe a little too enthusiastically as Iwaizumi startles (but he's also very, very pleased). Then adds quieter, almost shyly, “But only if you want to.”

Iwaizumi doesn't even bother gracing that with an answer; he just tries to ignore the pounding of his heart in his ears, wraps his slightly shaking fingers in Oikawa's collar and drags him forward.

His lips miss their mark, and it's incredibly embarrassing for all of one second. Oikawa huffs out a laugh, tilts his head into it and then it's nothing but the warm press of Oikawa's lips against his own.

Iwaizumi's hand bunches in the back of Oikawa's shirt, his eyes wide and then they slide closed as a long breath streams out of his nose, and he practically collapses against Oikawa, his knees going weak. He lifts his hands to card his fingers through Oikawa's hair, and gently cradles his head. 

Oikawa opens his mouth, and makes a quiet noise and it sends something hot shooting through Iwaizumi's body. His tongue nudges gently at Iwaizumi's lips, and Iwaizumi opens to him, deepening the kiss; it's warm, and wet, and tastes like sweat and it feels so damn perfect, and _right_ that Iwaizumi is certain that even if Oikawa hadn't left, then come back and set all of this in motion that they would've ended up kissing anyway, perhaps even sooner.

He feels like something he didn't even know he was missing has settled back into place. 

Oikawa nibbles at his bottom lip, and Iwaizumi pulls back with a groan. He stares down at his shoes, panting, trying to catch his breath; his hands slip from Oikawa's hair, to his shoulders. 

“That was good,” Oikawa murmurs, his voice rough from kissing and Iwaizumi can't help the little thrill that runs through him at the sound of it. Oikawa's lips press to his forehead, and then he continues to press a dozen feather-light kisses there until Iwaizumi looks up with a laugh.

“I liked it too,” he grins, and at Oikawa's raised eyebrows he corrects it to, “I _loved_ it.”

Oikawa laughs happily, squeezes Iwaizumi's hips gently and whispers, “I really like you.”

Iwaizumi's eyes flicker up to his, “You do?” he says, like he can't believe it _even_ after that kiss.

Oikawa rolls his eyes, nothing but exasperated fondness in his expression, “Of course,” he says. 

Iwaizumi face breaks out into a grin that has Oikawa's heart stuttering, “I really like you too,” he says. 

His fingers run gently up and down Oikawa's neck and Oikawa shivers, before he settles them on Oikawa's cheek almost reverently, and a dimple breaks out beneath his fingertips when Oikawa smiles. The moon shines bright outside, its light trickles in through the entrance doors and Iwaizumi whispers, their foreheads touching, “I'm so glad you came back to get me.” 

“To you,” Oikawa corrects quietly, “Came back _to you_.” His fingers skim along the edge of Iwaizumi's jaw, in a touch gentle enough to make Iwaizumi shiver.

“Yeah?” Iwaizumi asks, he tilts his head up and their noses brush.

“Yeah,” Oikawa breathes, and Iwaizumi kisses him. 

\- end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Home is a love that I miss very much, so the past has been bottled and labelled with love.'
> 
> AHHHHH I hope you liked this!!! I'm not very good at writing conclusions but I hope you found this a little enjoyable!! Thank you so much so much for reading. Comments and kudos are always appreciated!! Thank you so so much for your interest!! And for subscribing. I honestly appreciate it so much. I hope you guys are all having a great day and I'm off to bed now :) 
> 
> (oooh also btw I have like a very brief plan for a sequel to this set 10 years in the future that I'm thinking about doing, but I'll have to see if I get more ideas for it and that plot becomes more interesting than just a check-in on how iwaoi are doing in this au 10 years in the future lol).

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me when I was thinking about some of the friendships I lost when I moved away. I was seven and moved away from my best friend at the time and our friendship slowly died. I'm over it now, I didn't really notice it happening, but I felt like writing about it anyway. Some friendships do last - I know they do - but for the purpose of this story, this one doesn't. I think it's also hard to keep them up when you are young (I had to get my parents permission to use the telephone and they had to help me write letters - and as we were seperated by oceans it was expensive, our friendship falling apart was inevitable - but that was, and is, okay). 
> 
> I'm not sure when I'll have the next chapter out, hopefully soon, I have many ideas for it but I'll just sort out which ones to use and which ones to pass on to other stories. And then I have to actually write it, which is when I also add more stuff (the trimmings mostly). 
> 
> (Forgot to say! Title is from a poem by e.e cummings) 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this. Comments and kudos are always appreciated. Have a beautiful day :)
> 
> You can find me at: sakuragimichi.tumblr.com


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